Thrones and Teeth
by nobleignominy
Summary: Companion to Heads Will Roll, though not necessary to read that. A bloody coup threatens to destroy everyone and everything that Merlin holds dear. Camelot is on the brink of a war engineered by two dark sisters. A tale of politics, espionage and dragons.
1. Chapter 1: Rendezvous

This is the sequel to _Heads Will Roll_. You don't necessarily need to go back and read that one to get this one as this one is terribly different and has little to do with its predecessor. The only background you would need to know is that Merlin's secret is out and about as far as Arthur is concerned. Also there's much ado about a sinister witch in the previous story, but she's not quite as prevalent in this one, so you needn't worry about it. (But to you Carrow fans, don't worry she and Gwaine WILL be back around.)

What everyone needs to know is that this veers quite far off track from the series though you can consider it to be firmly rooted somewhere in the third season. Morgana is still smirking and plotting, but the Cup of Life has not commenced.

That's enough chit chat. You know I don't usually talk before the beginning, just needed to get you all situated. Enjoy!

Sidenote: This takes place three months after _Heads Will Roll._

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Chapter 1: _Rendezvous_

_##_

A chair crashed into the wall behind Morgana as she entered the tavern, but she was so preoccupied she didn't even flinch. She quickened her stride to the bar to avoid being hit in the head by a stray tankard of mead. Her head already felt as though it were clamped inside a metal vice, the last thing she needed was to be impaled in a bar fight.

"Can I get you sommat, ma'am?" the barkeep grunted at her.

She arched an eyebrow at him disdainfully as though in disbelief he should have the audacity to think she would drink anything _he_ had to offer. He returned the look and continued on to a more receptive patron. She tugged her cloak further down over her face, praying that no one would recognize her. The last thing she needed was word to get back to Uther and his sniveling little son that the fair Lady Morgana was consorting with riffraff like this at the bloody Barking Spider.

She adjusted herself on the stool she had claimed, straightening her back and then supposing she really ought to be hunching. If the fine silk cloak she had foolishly thought to wear didn't give her away, her posture probably would. Morgana was not thrilled with the task that Morgause had set before her this evening. It was all she could do to slip away from Uther this night - the night before the peacekeeping summit with Camelot's few remaining allies. She had grown so tired of playing his doting ward. It made her sick to her stomach.

She had feigned a headache to relieve herself of his company. The unfortunate thing of it was that no sooner had she spoken the lie, a headache really had manifested itself. It hadn't been unexpected, of course, she had spent most of the evening with the king - it was bound to show up sooner or later.

Morgana's jaw clenched as the dull throbbing climaxed behind her eyes.

"Better not be late," she muttered to herself. She rested her elbow on the bar, but quickly pulled it away as she realized how much filth had accumulated on the surface. Was that ale or piss? Was there a difference? She grimaced. Drawing her eyes away from the questionable yellow liquid fermenting on the bar, she scanned the tavern for the man whom Morgause had arranged the meeting with, a man by the name of Marek. Unfortunately her sister had given her little by way of description. He was tall, gruff, and mean-looking. Yes, Morgause, thank you for the extremely helpful if not completely inept illustration of every man currently lapping up luke warm piss-ale.

She sat inhumanly still for the next ten minutes, hoping not to draw any unwanted attention. While she was becoming increasingly aware at how ill suited she was for under cover work, Morgana was also grateful for the chance to be outside Camelot's suffocating walls. She was blissfully independent here and, for that feeling, she was prepared to spend many more evenings in a sweaty, damp tavern in the middle of nowhere.

An explosion of laughter brought her out of her thoughts and her eyes landed on a group of smelly men that had chosen seats adjacent to her. They all seemed to be looking at her with great interest. She found a different spot in the tavern to focus on and resisted the urge to scoff at them. She didn't want them to mistake her indignation for interest. So often men had such a hard time differentiating between the two. Clearly the tallest one was just such a man.

"Are you hidin' somethin', milady?" he said, taking a seat beside her. Morgana stiffened as a metallic, spoiled odor assaulted her nostrils.

"I'm here on business, sir. I suggest you mind your own," she said.

"I don't want to impede on your _business_, girlie, I'm just curious to know what's under that hood. Can you blame me?" he said, leaning forward and offering her a grimy grin. A filthy, gnarled hand had already inched towards the hood of her cloak, but someone grabbed it before Morgana had a chance to act.

"The lady might feel more keen on being revealing once she's finished her business." Morgana turned her head up to see a hooded man leaning over them.

"Yeah, no one asked your opinion," her smelly companion retorted. "Piss off." The man, though not as offensive to her senses as the thug beside her, was still quite surly. Morgana was possessed with the urge to say 'piss off' as well. She did not like men fighting her battles for her. It was not heroic, it was not attractive - it was patronizing.

"As soon as I've had a talk with the lady, she's all yours," he said, leaning into the thug's face and letting his hood drop which revealed a scowl that left little room for argument. The thug suddenly appeared a touch frightened, though not frightened enough to be on his way. Morgana rolled her eyes and shifted in her seat, glancing at the door in case she had missed her liaison. There was a loud thump as she did so and her companion ended up crumpled on the floor. The hooded man took his seat.

"That was unnecessary," she prompted.

"On the contrary, I'll think you'll find that it was entirely necessary. Unless you're just here for the atmosphere," the man said.

"You're Marek," Morgana said, raising an eyebrow as she took him in. He nodded gruffly and dug out what looked like a hip flask. He took a deep swig from it and then offered her some, which she declined.

"Suit yourself," he said, draining the flask. She frowned at him curiously. A very tall man, disheveled and tired looking with wavy auburn hair cropped short. Morgause had not chosen the word 'mean' lightly. He was older than her, by perhaps five or six years - but not as old as she had imagined when Morgause had told her of him. Marek was a well known criminal, a man who knew how to get things. Morgause had told her that he was more than likely a murderer, but it meant that he was the kind of man you could buy. And that was just the sort of man they could use.

"Tell me, why couldn't Morgause conduct this meeting herself?" Marek said. He spoke with a rich foreign brogue that Morgana didn't recognize. His face was hard and stoic, but she thought that his grey-blue eyes might be expressive given the chance.

"She was otherwise engaged," Morgana replied stiffly.

"And I'm sure you're perfectly qualified, aren't you?" Marek said. Morgana did not appreciate his tone.

"Do you have what we are after or don't you?" Morgana said.

"Depends. Do you have payment?"

Morgana undid a small bag from her waist and dropped it quietly on the counter, eyes darting about warily.

"Relax, girl. This place is quite used to shady deals and assorted brawls. I think the only thing that has caught it off guard is _you_," he said. "You could not be more conspicuous if you tried." He sounded almost amused by her. Morgana scowled at him. She would have loved to set him on fire at this moment. Set the whole bloody establishment ablaze. Her irritation had quickly turned to anger and that throbbing in her head had only proved to intensify.

Marek swiped the bag off the table and it disappeared into the folds of his jacket. She raised an expectant eyebrow at him. He produced a small tin box and placed it on the table. Morgana's eyes narrowed.

"This is it?"she said. "I thought it would be bigger. Surely it can't fit inside that."

"The box is bigger on the inside," Marek assured her. "Go on, pick it up." Morgana glared at him and went to pick up the small box. She dropped it almost immediately, her hand now a bright pink where she touched it.

"It's hot," she remarked. She glared at his hands and saw that they were calloused and weathered, a sort of natural hide. Hers were soft and fleshy from disuse.

"Yes," he replied, tone patronizing again as he nodded at her. He had already begun to get up. Morgana ignored this and continued to stare at the box uncomfortably. Now that she saw it there and _knew_ what her sister planned to do with it, something in her decided it may not be the best idea. "Might want to try a pair of gloves, milady," Marek offered snidely.

The comment snapped her out of the short-lived anxiety. She quickly scooped the tin box into a pocket in her cloak and smirked at the man. "Pleasure doing business with you, sir," Morgana said, offering him a hand. He took it reluctantly, a small smile dancing on his lips.

"Aye, the same to you, I'm sure," he replied, then he frowned as he looked down at her wrist. He jerked her arm forward and pushed up her sleeve.

"Let go of me!" she said, unable to keep the shock and outrage from her voice.

"Pretty bracelet you have there, my lady. Where did you get it?" he asked.

"A friend," she replied, jerking her hand away from him, "not that it is any business of yours." He grinned at her.

"No, no. I suppose you're right. Though if I were you, I'd find myself better friends," Marek said. He straightened himself, and replaced his hood. Before turning to leave, he gave her one last smile. A real smile this time, rather than a sneer. Morgana could only frown uncomfortably after him.

She looked down at the bracelet, her first gift from Morgause, and rolled her eyes. She did not know what the man had been on about, but he was clearly not to be trusted. If what was in that tin box did not play out, though, they would know where to find him. The bag of coins he had taken had a locator spell which would rub off on him. She smiled to herself, Morgause _loved_ turning men into minions and Morgana was beginning to acquire the same partiality.

The tin box was vibrating warmly against her leg, she only hoped it would not burn a hole through the cloak. She rather liked this cloak.

####

"_Mer_lin," Arthur touted huffily.

"Right, sorry," Merlin apologized, bumbling into the prince's room with sleep in his eyes.

"You've got something in your hair," Arthur said, raising an eyebrow as he shrugged a jacket over his red tunic. Merlin ruffled his hair and a few twigs fell to the ground. He winced at the trail of dirt he had dragged in, knowing he was going to be the one to clean it. He let out a yawn and went to collect the prince's scabbard for him, who waved him off and attached it himself. Merlin couldn't help but notice that Arthur had a growing insistence of attending to his own needs since he discovered his servant could set him on fire with his mind if he so chose.

"Come on, Merlin, I need you fighting fit today. You look like a - "

"Servant?" Merlin offered irritably.

"A servant's servant!" Arthur paused and his expression softened. "She doesn't know that you followed her, does she?" Merlin shook his head and leaned against the wall.

It had been a month since Merlin had informed Arthur of Morgana's betrayal. He took the news about as well as one might expect. Anger, disbelief - threatening to have Merlin executed, meanwhile neglecting to follow through. Arthur still held that Morgana was being coerced into working for Morgause somehow. He refused to believe that she would turn on him, on the kingdom. Merlin thought Arthur was waiting for Merlin to tell him that she was possessed or that she was an impostor. He was still in a stage of denial about the woman he had always considered to be a sister. Of course, Merlin had also regrettably mused that Arthur may have (at least at one point) harbored less than brotherly feelings for Morgana.

Merlin may have left the bit out about her actually _being_ his sister. Baby steps.

"I don't know what she was up to, though. I saw her meet with someone - a very large man by the name of Marek. Then I sat in the wrong chair and got thrown into a wall. Last thing I saw was her shoving a box into her cloak. She paid him and left," Merlin recounted, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn't tell Arthur that he also ended up being flung out of the bar entirely and that was why he happened to look like he'd crawled home. Of course, that was because he _had_ crawled home. At least part of the way.

"A box? That's it?" Arthur said, looking none too pleased with the intel. "Honestly, Merlin, couldn't you have, I don't know, kidnapped the man and got some info out of him?" Merlin scowled at Arthur, who always seemed to think magic was _so_ bloody simple. It wasn't necessarily the magic that was difficult, it was doing magic without it _looking_ like magic. He may have Arthur on his side, but the rest of the kingdom would still be happy to turn in sorcerers to the king and watch a bonfire.

"He was a very scary looking man, Arthur," Merlin said. Arthur frowned at him, unamused. "Next time you can have Leon follow her, how's that?"

"Yes… if only Leon wasn't so damn _tall. _Sticks out like a sore thumb," Arthur said, considering the prospect. "Do you think you could -"

"No. No, I don't think I could," Merlin said. He had found that he didn't really like Arthur becoming any more comfortable with his magic. He had begun to ask Merlin to solve all their problems that way. Of course Arthur was still uncertain enough about it only to invoke it where matters of Camelot were concerned. Honestly Merlin was beginning to worry about him - all the lies he had told Uther lately, Morgana, magic - how Arthur's head had not exploded was beyond him.

"Fine. I'll come up with an excuse to be in her room later today, after the first meeting. I don't want you anywhere near her in the castle, Merlin," Arthur said, suddenly appearing tired as he recalled the summit. It was clear to Merlin that Arthur would rather deal with Morgana and Morgause, leave the diplomacy to his father, but Uther had been rather volatile lately. Arthur had to be ready with a verbal dustpan should things go awry. "You look like hell. Go get cleaned up and meet me in the square."

Merlin nodded and left.

On his way back to his room, he ran into Gwen, who's face brightened as she saw him. The smile was infectious, and Merlin was finally able to produce one of his own.

"Good morning, Merlin! Oh, has Arthur had you mucking out the stables again?" Gwen asked.

"Um, yes. Where are you going with those flowers?" Merlin said, pointing at the purple bouquet in her arms.

"Pretty, aren't they? Smell a bit funny to me, though. I thought the Lady Morgana might like them," Gwen said, smile fading a bit. Gwen did not yet know about Merlin's magic or Morgana's treachery, but Merlin knew that she was not stupid - she had been noticing Morgana's strange behavior. Arthur had forbidden him from involving her. Merlin regretted the promise as soon as he made it. Ignorance did not make Gwen safe - in fact, very often what she didn't know ended up landing her in the dungeon.

Merlin sniffed the flowers and frowned, wondering if Gwen was trying her hand at passive aggression. "Where did you get them?"

"A woman was selling them in the street," Gwen said, shrugging. "Have you been to see Arthur already this morning?"

"Yes," Merlin said. It hadn't taken fifty seconds for the conversation to turn to Arthur. Perhaps that was a new record. "He's tired. Not looking forward to the summit. He ought to be out in the square greeting new arrivals soon, I'm sure seeing you would make him feel a bit better." Gwen smiled, blushing slightly as she nodded.

She surprised him with a kiss on the cheek. "Cheer up, Merlin." She squeezed his arm and then made her way towards Morgana's bedchambers, still blithely ignorant.

Merlin's stomach churned guiltily. He let out a sigh and ignored it. In a way Merlin almost thought that Arthur wanted to keep Gwen in the dark because he'd been happy to know that he wasn't _really_ the only person who didn't know the secret. No, Arthur wasn't vindictive. Not when it came to Gwen. But he was a prat. And he was giving Merlin a headache. Carrow had been right - Arthur always thought he knew what was best for people and he hadn't the right. But what was Merlin going to do about that? Piss and moan to Gaius, that's what.

Twenty minutes later, Merlin was freshly bathed, smelling like roses, and feeling much better. He marched into Gaius's work room with a half smile on his face, which was quickly replaced with a frown as he got a good whiff of what the physician was cooking.

"Merlin, where were you last night?" Gaius barked from behind him. The old man had been gathering herbs from a shelf. He flipped through a book and then began chopping the leaves finely.

"Ugh, what are you making?" Merlin asked.

"A salve for King Graeme Mendanbar. The man has a dreadful injury from a hunting incident and he's going to be under my care while he's here for the summit. And I've also got to whip up a draught for Duke Laurence, the man suffers from migraines. Answer the question," Gaius replied.

Merlin pursed his lips apologetically.

"Merlin! You told me you wouldn't go snooping around the Lady Morgana's business. You're going to get yourself killed," Gaius said.

"Tell that to Arthur," Merlin said. It hadn't been Arthur's idea, of course, but Merlin felt that Gaius might not be so upset with him if he said that Arthur had commanded it of him. Who was he to disobey a prince's orders? Gaius frowned at him, tossing the leaves he had been chopping into a pot which frothed angrily as he did so.

"Well, what did you find out?" Gaius said, sighing as he stirred the orange liquid. Merlin quickly recounted the tale. "A box? And she gave no clue as to what was inside?"

"No. I couldn't chance following her back. She was a bit more prudent on her way back because of all the attention the drunks were paying her," he said. He wished he'd been able to get closer to Morgana, but his following her rarely went according to plan - he had been overly cautious. "Arthur said he was going to snoop in her room. She doesn't suspect that _he _suspects her yet."

"That doesn't sound like a terribly good plan," Gaius said.

"I know. I wish he would let me tell Gwen - "

"I happen to agree with Arthur on that. Gwen's already suffered enough, we don't need Gwen to make an enemy of Morgana by accident," Gaius said.

"She's not an idiot! She could pretend just as easily as the rest of us!" Merlin argued.

"What about that friend of yours, the witch? Have you heard from her?" Gaius asked.

"No. Not for weeks. Last I heard she and Gwaine had headed toward Kidwelly," Merlin said regretfully. Business opportunity, she had said - a cursed farm and didn't that sound fantastic? Merlin didn't think so, really. Though now that Merlin thought about it, Carrow's last letter had been a bit stiff and she had made no mention of Gwaine at all. But that wasn't unusual, the two were not a particularly stable couple. If they could even be considered a couple.

"Shame. We could have used her to draw Morgana's attention," Gaius said. Merlin looked at him crossly. The physician had not yet met Carrow, but he did not find what he had heard entirely agreeable. But then she _was_ partially responsible for Merlin and Arthur disappearing for several very long weeks.

"You'd better get out to the square, Merlin. I've got to finish this salve before Graeme arrives," Gaius said, turning his attention back to his fuming orange potion. Merlin wrinkled his nose. It appeared more poisonous than soothing to him. He straightened the scarf around his neck and headed out the door.

####

"Where have you been? I told you to wash up not save a small village," Arthur hissed at him as Merlin strode toward him. While Arthur's tone was unhappy, he had a bright smile on his face. He was meant to be greeting assorted nobles from the neighboring kingdoms of Callai and Strathclyde.

"Sorry, Sire, Gaius held me up," Merlin muttered at Arthur, who was shaking hands with a squat and unassuming little man whom Merlin fancied as a Duke or Earl of something or other. "As did Gwen."

Arthur coughed and the Duke frowned.

"So sorry, Sir Martin. Have you seen Lady Morgana? She's been looking forward to your visit ever since the Tournament last spring," Arthur said with much gusto as he pointed the ward out. Merlin had to stop himself from laughing both at Arthur's throwing Morgana under the carriage like that and the fact that _that_ man happened to pass for a knight.

"That wasn't nice," Merlin said, covering his mouth.

"She's been doing it to me all morning," Arthur replied gruffly. "Are you sure she's working with -" Merlin cut him off with a grim scowl. "Right, right." Merlin couldn't really begin to imagine how Arthur must feel about Morgana. He stole a glance at the fair ward who was graciously accepting the rather thick knight, Sir Martin. She had become so practiced at duplicity that Merlin often found himself seeing the old Morgana. The strong, valiant woman who had helped defend his village, who would lay down her life for a serving girl.

"This couldn't be the young prince," a rich baritone said, forcing Merlin to tear his gaze from Morgana for the moment. Arthur had a broad smile on his face, one that seemed genuine, as he clutched an unfamiliar man's hand.

"Yes, Graeme - fortunately he grew out of that lanky phase," Uther said, making Merlin flinch - something he hoped no one noticed. Camelot's king had been touchy of late and Merlin had a sinking feeling this had something to do with Morgana. She had a way of bending Uther's wrath to her will. Incurring his wrath, of course, was the easiest thing in the world due to Uther's extreme distrust of everyone around him.

"I've heard you're a better swordsman than your father," Graeme said. The older man had light grey hair with just the barest shock of red through it. Though he appeared weary from travel, Merlin saw a mirthful energy in the man's tanned and weathered face. A heavy brow over steel grey eyes allowed him an aggressive air, but his boyish grin softened him considerably. A commanding presence the man had, but it held a certain warmth which Uther's own hardened demeanor lacked.

"I don't know where you get your information, Sir, but I assure you my father can still hold his own. Until, of course, he runs out of breath," Arthur conceded, a teasing smile on his face.

"Boy's got cheek, too!" Graeme said, allowing himself a laugh that came right from his belly. Merlin tried to remember what he knew of King Graeme, which was a gracious little. Merlin remembered Uther openly mocking the man not one week ago for being a coward. It seemed Graeme had a distinct distaste for war or expanding his country. Strathclyde was small compared to Camelot, but no one dared touch it. In spite of his opinion of war, Graeme's men were some of the most feared in the land. Gaius had told Merlin that Graeme was no coward, he was merely _exclusive_, though Merlin wasn't terribly sure what he meant by that.

Uther clapped his son on the back, a grin gripping his unkind features. Merlin was of the opinion it was forced. Uther did not have the best sense of humor about himself, at least not lately. He wondered if that had anything to do with Morgana whispering into his ear so often about how he was the king, he should not have to take brazen disrespect from anyone. Especially not his son.

"And where is Sofia?" Uther asked.

"I believe she was saying hello to your ward. Lovely young woman that Morgana has grown into," Graeme said. Arthur's smile diminished.

"She certainly has," Uther agreed, turning to look at Morgana. Merlin turned as well, noticing that she had finished speaking with Sir Martin in exchange for an older woman with deep auburn hair. Her back was turned to him so he could not make out her face, but he assumed this was Sofia Mendanbar. Almost as if she could feel them speaking of her, Morgana's eyes met Merlin's and he quickly turned to look back at King Graeme. This didn't seem to help matters as both women decided to join the men's conversation.

"Sofia, so good to see you arrived safely," Uther said.

"Need not sound so surprised, Uther," Sofia said, her cold voice a stark contrast to her husband's. She had sharp, angular features that spoke of an ageless beauty. Her reddish brown hair was already beginning to grey as it framed her face in soft, wispy curls. Her almond shaped eyes held deep blue irises that gave no insight to the woman's character. Unlike her husband, Sofia was unreadable. "Tell me, when do you plan on beginning the summit?"

"My lady, I believe the first charge will begin after the feast later tonight," Arthur said. Sofia looked very displeased with this answer, but her features seemed to soften as Arthur spoke up.

"Good. Do you have anyone that might show me to Graeme's and I's chambers? I should very much like to make sure everything is in order," she said primly.

"Ah, we've arranged separate - " Uther started, but the Lady cut him off.

"Nonsense, you have too many guests to waste an extra on me. I shall share a bedroom with my husband," she said.

"You'll excuse Sofia, she's been a bit grumpy the entire trip," Graeme said. Sofia glared at him, and he only grinned.

Arthur cleared his throat to get their attention once again. "My manservant will show you to your chamber, my lady. We will have your chambermaid notified of the change as well," he said diplomatically. Uther's face had already reddened with anger at being spoken to like that, by a woman no less. Merlin nodded, bowing slightly to Queen Sofia, suddenly more awake than he had been the entire conversation.

Arthur nodded and waved Merlin and the Queen off. Merlin couldn't help but see Morgana smirking at him as he followed Sofia up the stairs, as though she knew this would be a horribly painful experience for him.

"This way, my lady," he said, leading her through the throng of the crowd. He led her down several corridors to the very back of the guest wing, to their second best bedroom. While Uther did not garner much respect for King Graeme, he had still saw fit to equip the Mendanbars with the castle's best accommodations. Merlin now saw that this was probably not for Graeme's benefit so much as his wife.

Once they got to the bedroom, Merlin said, "I'll go and collect your things for you as well, Ma'am, please make yourself at home," and turned to leave. Before he got out the door though, the Queen told him to wait.

"Young master, what's your name?" she asked, her tone no longer cold. Merlin turned to face her and saw that she had replaced the ugly scowl with a genuine smile. Merlin frowned at her, unable to speak. "Well?" she prodded.

"Oh, ah, Merlin, my lady," he replied.

"Well, ah - Merlin, I want to apologize for my previous behavior. I have no quarrel with you, I should simply like to keep my husband on his toes, you understand. Graeme is a kind soul, but he sees friends where there are enemies and I shouldn't like for him to be duped into an alliance that would drag Strathclyde's good name through the mud, you see?" she told him. Merlin's frown only intensified.

"That is… very well, my lady, but why are you telling _me_ all of this?" he asked. She turned away from him then to survey the room, her arms held elegantly behind her back.

"And please have your physician send up my husband's salve? I was told that would all be taken care of,"Sofia told him with an air of finality. Merlin took that as an admission to leave.

####

He trudged into Gaius's work room just as night fell and all of the guests had been sorted. The castle was as lively as ever, though, and servants were still bustling about trying to make sure that all the nobles' accommodations were up to snuff. Merlin, boasting slight seniority, had been allowed to supervise much of it though he was still forced to help with most of the luggage. He hadn't seen Arthur since earlier that morning, but he had met Sir Leon in the hall. The knight seemed on edge, but then Leon was never one for these sorts of formal gatherings.

"I can't go to the feast tonight," Merlin whined as he took a seat on one of the stools.

"I'm afraid there's really no way out of it," Gaius said. The older man was flipping through books like a mad man, clearly looking for something. He sounded as though he were not terribly interested in hearing Merlin whine, which was a real shame because Merlin was in the mood to be pitied, or in the very least listened to.

"Are you looking for something?"

"Yes, it seems that King Mendanbar didn't take very well to my salve. Had some sort of allergic reaction to it. Broke out in a spot of hives," Gaius said. "I need to remedy that as well as come up with a salve that will actually do its job." Anger had already inched into the physician's voice, so Merlin decided against both whining and informing the man of the king's odd wife. At least he would postpone it until after the feast when they could both retire.

"Ah, alright. I suppose I'll just get dressed for the dinner then," Merlin said a bit huffily. He went into his room to rustle through his clothes. The last time he had been to a feast of this prestige, he had been forced into a ridiculously flamboyant hat and tunic. He had been worried that would once again be called on this evening, but fortunately Arthur hadn't mentioned it. He took that to mean any of his better threads would accommodate the evening.

As he was changing, Gwen popped in.

"Oh I'm sorry, Merlin!" she said, apologetically averting her gaze. Blushing slightly, Merlin turned to her.

"Just a moment. I only say this because I'd rather your eyeballs not take it upon themselves to bleed out for fear of worse injury," he said self deprecatingly as he threw a tunic over his head. A muffled giggle reached his ears. "Alright, it's safe to look."

"Arthur sent me in to tell you he couldn't… find it? He said you'd know what that meant. What _did_ he mean, Merlin?" she asked.

"Oh nothing, don't worry about it, Gwen." He shrugged on a dark brown jacket, one that was a bit more tailored than his usual attire.

"You two have been so secretive of late! You know how I hate that," Gwen said.

"I know. But we can't - ah, _I_ can't," Merlin started, before a rather vindictive idea popped into his head. "Gwen, it's about you. Arthur's been after well, a surprise for you -"

"A surprise?" she said suspiciously. Hands on her hips, Merlin felt certain she wouldn't believe him. "What sort of surprise?"

"I can't tell you that, can I? Otherwise it won't be a bloody surprise! Listen, I've really got to get to the feast. Otherwise Arthur will think I'm shirking my duties again," Merlin insisted. She was still looking at him with narrowed eyes, but she let him pass.

Rather proud of himself for the lie, he slipped out of Gaius's work room. The physician was still hunched over a boiling cauldron and looking stressed as ever. Merlin felt for the man, but at the moment he was unable to provide any help. He had to get back upstairs as quickly as he could. As he made his way down the corridor toward the hall where the feast was being held, he thought he saw Morgana hurrying in the opposite direction. Something about the manner in which she was carrying herself put Merlin on edge. Something was going to happen tonight, he felt sure of it.

As he entered the hall, which was laden with the most succulent meats and vegetables you could imagine, he was quickly handed a pitcher by one of the servers. He thought the man's name was William. He supposed that meant he was not going to get to sit down and enjoy any of the food. Pitcher of wine in hand, he edged down toward where Arthur was seated next to Sir Martin. Merlin refilled the prince's glass, pointedly smirking at him for his undesirable neighbor. Arthur ignored this and took a swallow from his freshly filled goblet.

"Nothing then?" he whispered into Arthur's ear. The prince shook his head. The second course of food came out then, and Merlin was forced to take a step back so that the servants could begin ladling the food onto plates.

Merlin's ears pricked as he picked up on King Uther's conversation with Duke Laurence of Callai. They were speaking of an encroaching war with the Vaudran kingdom. The Duke was known for his own short temper, so it was no wonder he and Uther had suddenly decided to get on.

"One of my scout's was speaking of a weapon that the Vaudran king had recently acquired. I daresay he won't be afraid to use it," Laurence assured Uther.

"Yes, but I'd really like to know _what_ he has up his sleeve. Going in blind would be irresponsible," Uther asserted.

They argued back and forth like this before King Mendanbar broke in. The man's face was rouge colored and quite puffy around the right side of his face and neck. Merlin supposed he must have applied the salve to a shoulder wound, he was fairly surprised that the King had been able to make it at all. He secretly wondered if Queen Sofia might have had something to do with it. She seemed distinctly unimpressed by her husband's diplomacy skills, or rather, the lack thereof. Gaius didn't make mistakes like this. Though he supposed it wasn't Gaius's fault if he simply didn't know the King was allergic to a particular herb.

"It sounds to me as though you two are excited for the prospect of some unknown danger. All of this is just hearsay -" Graeme started.

"No it isn't, though. Did you not hear of Kellan's Landing? My entire port was felled by a sickness. It singled out the children and burned them from the inside out," Laurence said.

"And you think that had something to do with Vaudran? Why would King Raynart single out only one town and only the children at that?" Queen Sofia asked skeptically.

Merlin listened to the conversation with a mixture of interest and fear. He and Arthur were perhaps _too_ concerned with the internal matters of Camelot. He had no idea of what had befallen Kellan's Landing. Though it wasn't exactly unusual for a town to succumb to sickness. And it was a port city. It was perfectly logical that it might have spread from one of the ships or even from the sea itself.

The conversation quickly turned into an argument though, Laurence's face turning an angry purple as he and the Mendanbars went back and forth.

"Your wife's tongue is silver, I'll grant you that Graeme, but she should learn when to hold it," Laurence spat. Even Uther seemed to think that was a bit out of turn.

"Laurence, I think you may want to switch to water, as you have forgotten your manners," he said.

"No, Uther, I would rather him speak his mind. Would you rather us attack King Raynart? Go to war and lose countless lives based on a _rumor_?" Sofia said.

"No, but we ought to do more digging. Send in scouts, search parties, whatever it took to be _certain_," Laurence insisted, growing more frustrated and purple faced by the second. Sweat was billowing from his pores, and Merlin didn't wonder if the Duke was going to be sick.

"But then we would risk capture and angering Vaudran into declaring war on _us._ Strathclyde, Camelot, and Callai are no match for the half a dozen kingdoms which Raynart has on his side should war be struck, Laurence," Sofia said calmly. Laurence, on the other hand, was nonplussed and showed it by downing another gulp of wine. After loosening his collar, he fanned himself irritably as he tried to think of a counter.

"So you suggest we do nothing?" Uther rebuked.

"Not nothing, but whatever we do I suggest it be _discreet_. Find out where this so called children's _plague_ originated first, rebuff the criminal activity within our own kingdom. Criminals, I've found, make wonderful troves of information," Sofia answered, before frowning at her husband. Welts had suddenly appeared upon the man's face and it looked as though he were having trouble breathing.

Screams from some of the noblewomen rung in Merlin's ears before what was happening to Graeme even registered. The welts resembled purple bee stings and they were growing all over the man's face. Moans of pain were all that could escape his mouth as the abscesses seemed to be contingent to every place which air touched the man's skin. The first one burst and a steaming yellow puss escaped and dribbled down his front, forcing everyone who was nearby trying to help him to take several steps back.

"Merlin! Get over here and take the Duke to Gaius," Uther demanded. "You two, help him!" Two of the guards rushed over to the Duke, grabbing him under the arms. Merlin led the way down.

"No, I'm coming with!" Sofia shouted hysterically, her face no longer terribly composed.

"Sofia, no you will not. We don't know if it's contagious, now let go of your husband," Uther said, grasping Sofia's arm firmly.

Whatever other words she may have said were lost on Merlin's ears as he scrambled to lead the two guards and King Graeme back down to Gaius's chambers. The corridors cleared themselves as everyone got a look at what was happening to the King. The welts were still growing and bursting and Merlin's heart was racing as he prayed that Gaius would know how to fix it. The reaction to the salve could not be what was causing this, it couldn't be - if it was, Merlin didn't think Sofia would allow Gaius to get away with it. His heart raced as they clambered down the stairs.

Once they got in, the guards placed Graeme on a cot.

"What happened?" Gaius said.

"I don't know, they just… welts grew - all over. Gaius, quickly I think his esophagus is closing up," Merlin stuttered. Gaius shooed the guards out of the way so that he could study the King. "Is it a reaction to the salve?"

"I don't know. I saw the hives he got, it could be a latent reaction - but quickly, give me that bottle," Gaius said. Merlin obediently handed him a bottle with a pink solution inside, which he poured down Graeme's throat. The inflamed welts cleared quickly, but as soon as the solution drained down into his stomach, they seemed to grow all over again.

"Magic?" Merlin whispered.

"You tell me," Gaius said. Merlin hovered over Graeme, though he already knew the answer to his own question. It wasn't magic, it was herbal. And if it was herbal, Gaius ought to be able to fix it. Or, he supposed, he could. As soon as he decided to try something on his own, though, the door to Gaius's chambers swung open and Arthur and several men came in.

"What is the meaning of this?" Gaius said.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said "Arrest him." Two of his knights promptly grabbed Gaius around his elbows and marched him out with not so much of as a word. Merlin tried to hold them back, but was shoved into the table on the other side of the room. Arthur hung back for only a moment.

"Arthur, what the hell!" Merlin said.

"Sorcery, the usual. Just - just fix him, alright? Gaius will be fine. You'll make sure of it," Arthur said resignedly.

"But Arthur!"

"Merlin! Not now!" Arthur shouted, "Fix him!"

##

_I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter. Also I'm going to warn you that I'll be adding an OC love interest for Merlin later. I know a lot of readers dislike that but honestly? The only other viable option would be Morgana and… that wouldn't really work for what I'm doing, and I apologize (cause I actually do love me some MerMor). Just telling you so you can get out now if you have an aversion to OC's, though I promise I'm not that bad with them, or so I've been told. Besides that it certainly won't revolve around romance. _

_I'd appreciate thoughts/criticisms/suggestions. I like to know what you guys think/would like to see in future chapters. Thank you so much for reading!_


	2. Chapter 2: Wolf in Sheep

Previously on _Thrones and Teeth:_ Morgana met a shadowy stranger and received a tin box containing an unknown threat to the kingdom. Camelot is playing host to a peace summit with three visiting kingdoms. There is a threat coming from the south in Vaudran and Uther hopes to gain much needed alliances. After mucking up a salve for one of the visiting Kings, Gaius has been arrested for suspected sorcery (as usual), leaving Merlin to save the ailing king all on his lonesome.

##

Chapter 2: _Wolf in Sheep's Clothing_

##

Hovering over King Graeme, Merlin licked his lips and winced at the macabre contortion the poor man's face had become. The welts were still growing and bursting over old welts. It had turned his face into an unrecognizable nightmare. Merlin was terrible at healing spells, but he had been practicing lately, which was almost impossible to do in secret. Rushing to the door, he whispered a spell to make sure that it was locked and then went back to Graeme's side.

Hands poised just over the man's face, he began to weave a spell that would combat whatever had conjured the abscesses to start with. Focusing the fine tendrils of healing magic on the man's mouth and nostrils, he worked diligently to clear the man's airways. The problem was that every time that Merlin managed to reduce the welts, more would grow in their stead. He needed to find the origin. Eyes still closed, his spell became more forceful. This was where Merlin's problem area was. Disease like this - if he didn't know where to look or what to look for, it was hard to find. If he had time, he could research the issue. Where the hell was Arthur or even Gwen, when you needed them? They could do research while he kept trying.

His heart was pumping. If the king suffocated, it would be his fault. Then Gaius would be blamed and subsequently hanged. How did he always get into these bloody ridiculous situations? Anxiety and adrenaline pumped through his veins as he once again cursed his responsibilities. Merlin sometimes wished he were just an ignorant farm boy whose only worry was whether or not it rained and what he'd have for dinner.

Merlin stopped his spell working for a moment as he noticed his hands were feeling a bit odd. Opening one worried eye reluctantly, he gazed at his hands which were only inches away from Graeme's skin. One of the king's welts had exploded rather than oozed open and the pus had made contact with his skin. Merlin had caught the contagion. It was already spreading up his his hand.

"Damn it!" Merlin said loudly, forcing another tendril of magic down to his hands to get rid of the welts. He stood back from Graeme. Who else had gotten hit with the pus seeping from his wounds? "It's got… It's got to be some sort of spore, or fungus." Merlin leapt across the room and went to Gaius's bookshelf to find appropriate literature. What could he do? "Think! Think! Stop being so thick and think!" The welts were forming on his hands again and he forced them away. He couldn't do that the rest of his life and he certainly couldn't maintain that sort of consistency on King Graeme.

There was a furious knocking at the door then and Merlin was grateful it was locked, though he realized other guests may have already come into contact with the spore. He was only grateful the men who had dragged him in here had been covered head to toe. No one would be stupid enough to touch the curious yellow ooze. It didn't seem to be airborne, at least.

"I demand to see my husband! Let me _in_, you stupid little boy!" came the unhappy shriek of Queen Mendanbar. Merlin's heart leapt into his mouth. He couldn't let Graeme die, she sounded genuinely terrified. But some part of him still suspected that she had been the one to do this. There was a shuffling outside the door, an argument involving quite a bit of hissing at one another and then the door smashed open. The Queen rushed to her husband's side.

"No! Don't touch him, you'll be infected!" Merlin shouted, slowly turning around and showing his shaking hands to the Queen. Another woman was hunched over Graeme now and Merlin heard more footsteps from outside Gaius's chambers, he assumed that meant more knights were going to stream in on top of it and there would be a bloody pandemic in the castle if so much as a drop of that oozing discharge got out.

The woman who accompanied the Queen into the chambers sprung up quickly and went to the door. "Nasty business in here, my darlings. Contagious. Be good lads, make sure no one else was infected by the King's ailment?" came a familiar voice. "Clear up anywhere the man might have leaked. Bring anyone else who seems infected down here straight away." Merlin frowned. When he didn't hear movement, the woman's voice became colder, more commanding - almost as if she herself were the Queen. "Go. _Now_." There was a reluctant marching after that.

"What's wrong with him? Can we fix it?" the Queen asked, desperation in her voice.

The woman came back into the room and clapped her hands loudly. "Yes, he can. Can't you, Merly?"

Merlin's eye twitched as he realized who was before him. There, with her hair piled messily on top of her head, bright green eyes twinkling mischievously, and those ugly pink scars still glowing menacingly on her cheek stood Selene Carrow: theif, murderer, witch. "What the hell are you doing here?' was all Merlin could think to say.

"We'll have time for catching up in a moment, darling, but the King has the floor right now," Carrow said. "Do you have any idea what caused this?"

"Can you fix him? Just fix him!" came the Queen's agitated voice in between the uncharacteristic blubbering. "He can't breathe!"

"Yes, we know that, Queenie. Do be quiet so the man can think," Carrow replied. The Queen appeared indignant, but quieted down.

Merlin headed over to the King and looked, thinking intently, while at the same time trying to keep the man's airways clear and his own welts at bay. "It couldn't be Gaius's salve, he had that reaction but… this happened afterwards, it couldn't be a delayed effect. I know it's spores though, some sort of fungus. But I can't stop it, I've tried! It moves too quickly." Carrow frowned for a moment, standing up and pacing the room. Then she paused, spinning around to face him with a smile on her face.

"If it spreads, it needs to be gotten rid of all at once," Carrow said, she plucked the bottle of pink liquid that Gaius had used in the first place and sniffed it. "Oh, ice willow and perhaps emberclover. Expensive. But I suppose this is a castle… Wish I could afford such nice things."

"_Carrow_!" Merlin growled through gritted teeth. The oozing welts on his forearms were beginning to sting and burn as the skin broke.

"Right, we need to move the king into your tub. Merlin keep those airways clear and Sofia and I will do the heavy lifting. Queenie - legs," Carrow said, grabbing a pair of dark leather gloves from Gaius's work bench and snapping them on. The Queen was still wearing long silk ones and the King's lower half was covered by his clothes. So long they didn't dawdle, the pus shouldn't spread.

The two women poured the unconscious King Mendanbar into the tub at the back of Gaius's chamber. Had Merlin not been a bit nonplussed at that moment, he would have thought it odd that Carrow seemed to know where she was going. Once he was in there, Merlin heard another knock at the door and he hoped that Carrow had locked it behind her. Graeme was his first priority right now - unless, of course, it was Arthur whose skin was exploding beyond the door.

"Fungus like wet, damp places. I need you to see if you can multiply this - we're going to need a tubfull," Carrow said. Meanwhile the Queen was trying very hard to keep herself composed about all of this. Merlin was loathe to work any magic in front of her, but as it was already mentioned and she hadn't flinched - perhaps he wouldn't be set ablaze the following morning.

"What do you - Oh! But won't that -"

"Engender a very uncomfortable stinging sensation for the poor king?" Carrow said, wincing as she thought about it. "A little discomfort never killed anyone."

Merlin decided that Carrow was rarely wrong about these sorts of things, and at least this made sense. Fire and ice would kill the spores and in liquid form it would keep them from spreading. He had practiced a multiplication spell last month when Gaius had run out of Lion's Breath. It had worked rather magnificently, though the multiples had only lasted an hour or so before fading away again.

The knocking at the door became more furious and Merlin worried it might be rammed in at any moment.

"I'll deal with that, you save my husband," the Queen said, wiping her wet cheeks and assuming a more dignified manner almost immediately.

"Hop to it, Merly," Carrow said, motioning to the bottles. Merlin shook himself, ignoring the pain still growing up his arms, he began to work the spell which would conjure up half a dozen more bottles. Unfortunately the bottles were small and this would be incredibly cumbersome. But Merlin was excited at this point, as he always was when he knew in his _bones_ that something would work - that it had come down to the wire, but he could do it. Carrow grabbed the bottles and uncorked them as they appeared, dumping the bright pink liquid into the tub and being sure dribble a bit over Graeme's airways each time. Being sure that he could breathe was the most important bit.

It took nearly twenty minutes before the king was submerged.

"He's going to drown," Merlin warned as Carrow pushed the king's head under.

"Hush."

The Queen rejoined them and looked positively unruly at what they were doing to Graeme. Merlin could understand - it appeared to be some sort of heinous punishment they were performing on the king. And the tub was small, the king was shoved inside like a sardine. And then he started to wriggle like one.

"Get him out of there!" Sofia said as her husband struggled.

"Ten seconds," Carrow said, glaring at the Queen sternly. Only Carrow would dare look at a Queen like that. Sofia, however, returned the glare though she didn't argue.

Graeme erupted from his pink bath ten seconds later, gasping for breath. His face was still an ugly mound of flesh, but the welts had gone completely. He let out a horrible moan, and his whole body was convulsing with pain. "Merlin stand back. We'll get him out of the tub and then you get in." Sofia had already begun to help her husband out, cooing comfortingly into his ear. Merlin was careful to keep his still broiling flesh away from the other three. Once King Graeme was safely out of the way, he jumped in, sucking in a lungful of hair and then immersing himself entirely. Carrow held his head down so that he wouldn't come up too early.

The world, which had been so loud and stressful seconds ago was suddenly calm and serene. Had it not been for the fact that his skin was now burning something fierce wherever he had a cut or a sore, he might have found this thirty seconds of peace terribly comforting. Carrow yanked him up by the hair though, cutting his pontification short.

"Queenie says there are three others at the door. I'll collect them. Take Sofia and Graeme into your room and get rid of his wounds. I'd leave a bit of scarring though - just so it doesn't seem so obvious that you're an absolute _wizard_," she said, a lopsided grin forming. She shoved the three of them into his bedroom and shut the door behind them. He heard an awful commotion outside the door two minutes later as well as quite a bit of splashing.

He turned, sopping, to look at Sofia and Graeme, who had already passed out from pain on Merlin's bed.

"The welts are all gone, right?" Merlin asked.

"Yes, it looks like it. At least from what I can tell - it looks like he was flayed alive!" Sofia said, undoing Graeme's tunic and removing his jacket. His entire body had suffered and Merlin realized how easily he'd gotten off. Whomever had been behind this was incredibly sadistic. Why hadn't they just poisoned him and gotten it over with? Merlin's head swam at the idea that any of that gunk was left in the castle. He needed to get in touch with Arthur immediately and work out some protocols, supply them with more of the ice-fire mixture.

"Don't worry your highness, I can heal him," Merlin said.

"With more magic?" she asked, sounding hesitant. Merlin raised an eyebrow at her. Would she tell? Have him strung up and burned alive as Uther would?

"Yes. Unless you want me to leave him this way, he would heal naturally - but slowly and he'd be bedridden for weeks," Merlin said.

"And we'd be stuck here," she muttered to herself. The comment almost made Merlin laugh. Had the stress not been getting to him, he may have. He could still hear shuffling and painful shrieks coming from Gaius's work area. A puddle of the pink cure was seeping under Merlin's door and Carrow shouted something a bit angrily. "Just do it. Your secret will be safe with me, young man. Strathclyde is not as intolerant of the craft as Camelot."

Merlin looked at her a moment, realizing that it was too late one way or another. Shaking his head, he began he spell to mend Graeme's mutilated flesh. His eyes glowed and gold coils of magic seeped into Graeme, gently reconstructing the skin. In some areas, Merlin might have forced it out of impatience, but within five minutes Graeme was nearly as good as new. As per Carrow's advice, he left it looking a bit rough in places. It could heal the rest of the way naturally so that no messy questions could be asked.

Sofia Mendanbar grasped her husband's hand and his eyes fluttered. Graeme breathed her name briefly before falling back to sleep.

"He should be fine now. Just let him rest. Tomorrow he'll be ready to take on the whole kingdom," Merlin said softly, itching to leave his bedroom.

"Aren't you going to fix yourself?" Sofia asked. Merlin looked back at his hands and arms, which didn't look much better than Graeme had. He could heal himself, but magic used for personal gain often went wrong.

"Ah, can't. Magic is tricky that way - I'll get Carrow to help me later though. Can barely feel it," he lied. Now that he had saved the king, his skin was allowed to burn once more. He brushed the pain away and stood up, ready to greet the mess that was surely waiting behind his door.

"I assume by Carrow you mean Cassie, my maidservant," she said. Merlin frowned.

"Maidservant?"

"Yes, she came into the position a month ago, highly recommended by your own Prince Arthur," Sofia said. "I nearly didn't take her because of the horrible scarring on her face, but then it occurred to me that she wouldn't be running off to get married like her predecessor. She was the one who mentioned I ought to be friendly toward you. I see she's kept quite a few secrets though."

Merlin, baffled by the development, didn't exactly trust himself to speak. It occurred to him that Sofia may not be entirely aware of who Carrow was, but she clearly knew that the woman had some skill where magic was concerned. Though she was not blessed with magic naturally as Merlin was, Carrow was persistent in her use of it. Why would Arthur give Carrow a recommendation? Why would he do it without thinking to mention it to _him_?

"I'm sorry, your highness, but I've really got to attend to -" There was another angry shout from outside his bedroom. "All that." As well as getting Gaius out of the bloody dungeons.

"Go. Also please send a few of your king's men to collect my husband and bring him back to our room. I'd rather him not wake up in a broom cupboard," she said, looking around Merlin's room with a bit of disgust on her face. She must really think it was a cupboard. Merlin chose to ignore the insult and nodded obediently. He'd only saved her husband's life, he didn't need a thank you. Tomorrow morning he would probably look back on this and realize that today had been _average._

He left her before she could say anything else to annoy him further. As soon as Merlin opened the door, he was greeted by chaos and suddenly he felt exhausted. Carrow was in the middle of it, dunking what looked like the last of the infectees - an older man who may have been a manservant. Guards were ushering them back outside, leaving Merlin with the wreckage.

"Oh good, did you get Graeme sorted?" Carrow asked as she wrenched the man out of the water. The level of ice-fire solution in the tub had decreased significantly as half of it was now on the floor. It seeped into Merlin's shoes and his feet began to tingle. He wondered what the stuff had actually been intended for. Perhaps he ought to pay more attention to Gaius's pandering of medical knowledge.

"Yes," Merlin said before grabbing a guard and telling him to help get the king and his wife moved back up into their room. The guard nodded and looked relieved to be out of the place.

"I don't know why he was so unsettled. This ought to be the most fungus-free place in the castle by now," she said pushing sopping hair out of her face with a gloved hand. How she had managed to do all this without becoming infected herself was beyond Merlin. "Come now, Lionel, sir. Get out of the tub. I'm not coming in after you,"Carrow crowed at her last patient.

The older gentleman struggled to climb out, he used Carrow's arm to steady himself and then slipped on the floor. Merlin caught his other arm which was covered in sores just like his. The man's face was also a bit mottled, but like Merlin he hadn't suffered like King Graeme.

"Come by tomorrow morning and we'll have you a nice cream to help clear that up, alright, dear?" Carrow said. The man nodded fearfully and Merlin thought he must be in shock.

"I'm cured? I'm not contagious anymore? I've got a wife - I don't want her catching this!"

"You're right as rain, promise," Merlin assured him. As the man left Merlin surveyed the mess behind him, wincing.

"Merlin, could you ah, finish up in here? I've got an errand to run. I promise I'll be back - also, collect the King's clothes from him when you can. I've got a hunch on how Graeme caught ill," she said, already skipping towards the door as though she couldn't get away fast enough.

"But Carrow - " Merlin shouted after her, but she'd already disappeared out the door. His hands still felt like they were being skinned and irritation riddled with confusion spiked behind his eyes causing his head to throb painfully. He still needed to save Gaius now.

####

"You know Gaius had nothing to do with this," Arthur said to his father through clenched teeth. His men had already ushered the physician into the dungeon and Uther had prescribed that Arthur be the one to interrogate him. "It is a waste of time and resources to have him locked up. Mendanbar could _die _without his skills."

"Not two weeks ago you said that his apprentice was more than capable of taking over Gaius's responsibilities should I send him elsewhere. Were you lying?" Uther spat.

"No, but - "

"Then there is nothing to worry about, is there?" Arthur bit his tongue, but his hands became fists. "I cannot simply do nothing. This castle is full of panicked nobles who have trusted me to keep them safe. If I don't arrest _someone_ for this attempt on Graeme's life I will look like a fool and garner support from _no one._"

"Yes, but why does that someone have to be Gaius?" _Why couldn't it be Morgana?_ Arthur thought a bit uneasily.

"Don't act like the physician is someone I can trust unconditionally. He has been wronged enough in the past to be displeased with me. I cannot ignore the evidence against him." Uther had a maddening glint in his eye then which left Arthur unsettled. Shifting his gaze to Leon, who stood behind Uther, Arthur struggled with his temper.

"At least allow me to send some men to search the castle for anything that looks suspicious - "

"No, I can't risk furthering the panic already rampant through the castle," Uther said.

"This isn't about politics right now! It's life and death! You can say that Gaius may have had a partner if it will set your mind at ease, but do not be stupid about this!"Arthur exploded. Uther's face contorted into a rage.

"Do _not_ take that tone with me. I have already sent a few men to round up the cooks and serving waiters, they were the only ones with the means to do this to Graeme. Gaius will not be alone in the dungeons. Now, do as your king has commanded and question the prisoner," Uther said. Arthur didn't move for a moment, his eyes locked with his father's angrily.

"Yes, Sire," Arthur finally managed.

"Good. Go." Uther turned on his heel and went back into the hall where several of their male guests were waiting for news. Arthur wondered if they had managed to restrain Graeme's wife. He had heard Sofia's howls from across the castle, and they left an unpleasant taste in his mouth, but no worse than it would be when he went down into the dungeon to face Gaius. It was beginning to feel as though the poor man was blamed for something new every other month now.

Arthur headed towards the dungeon with a scowl on his face, feeling like a child being sent to his room. Sir Leon was following obediently behind him. Not a day went by that Arthur wasn't grateful for a knight like Leon. They'd been through so much together and he was the one other person, aside from Merlin, that Arthur felt he could trust completely. He trusted Leon almost more than Merlin. This was only due to the fact that, to be honest, Merlin's powers still scared Arthur. He didn't understand them, and though he wouldn't admit it, he was afraid of what Merlin could do. Leon, though, good reliable Leon - there was a man that you could always understand. No surprises.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Leon grabbed Arthur by the arm and handed him a bit of parchment."Sire, your father seems to be -"

"A complete fool?" Arthur said irritably, taking the parchment.

"Well I was going to go with 'making a grave mistake,' but yes. He seems a bit out of sorts at the moment," Leon said. Arthur sighed and unrolled the note, it only now occurring to him that it should be odd Leon handed it to him at all.

Written neatly across the pager read:

_The Duke of Callai will not present at the summit._

"Who gave you this?" Arthur asked.

"A stable boy, what does it say?" Leon replied. Of course he was too noble to read it before Arthur had a chance to see. Arthur consciously stopped himself from rolling his eyes as he handed the note to Leon.

"An imposter?" the knight asked. "I never met the man before now, I wouldn't know the difference."

"Neither have I. He only just achieved the position last year when his brother passed away. I suppose that makes him an easy target. He _was_ sitting close to King Mendanbar." The prince did not like these games. It was all too smoke and mirrors for his taste. Camelot was in short supply of friends these days, he decided he had best not take the warning lightly.

"I'll have a peek into the man's bedroom when I make my rounds then?" Leon said. Arthur gave the man a genuine smile then, nodding. Leon was already ahead of him - the make of a good knight.

"Couldn't hurt. Look into as many of the noble's rooms as you can, under the guise that you're checking for suspicious… herbs and the like. Morgana's chambers as well if you can. Employ the chambermaids and servants if you have to, anything to avoid a stir," Arthur said. Leon nodded and promptly headed in the opposite direction, leaving Arthur alone in the hall. He considered going back to Gaius's chambers first, to check on King Graeme, but he assumed Merlin would send word if there was any change. He'd best head to the dungeons to avoid angering his father further.

Five minutes later and Arthur was pacing outside of Gaius's cell irritably as he waited for news of King Graeme's speedy and miraculous recovery. Three guards were at his back, watching his every move. He was privy to the fact that King Graeme's skin had a bad reaction with the salve that Gaius had concocted - but hell, he'd experienced the same misfortune enough times himself until they finally figured out that he was allergic to pigweed. It was an accident, not a crime. And those welts appeared _hours_ after Graeme's first bout of hives arrived. He knew Morgana had something to do with this, he knew he should have given her a permanent shadow.

"So Gaius, how long have you been plotting to kill King Mendanbar?" Arthur said.

"Sire…" one of the guards asked, noting the sarcasm drenched line of questioning Arthur had taken.

Arthur drew closer to the bars. "Did you notice anything out of place in your chambers? Any herbs you don't remember acquiring? Maybe the salve was a shade darker when you gave it to Graeme?"

"Arthur if any of that were the case, don't you think I'd have said something?" Gaius said, crossing his arms. The physician was seated quite calmly in his cell, the neighboring one already filled with half a dozen servers from the feast, all of whom looked terrified. Arthur knew none of them would help. Whomever caused the King's illness would be more intelligent than that.

"Gaius I am so sorry," Arthur said, leaning his head against the bars of the cell.

"Oh, my boy, it's not your fault. I'm being blamed for something I didn't do - must be Tuesday," Gaius said, letting out a chuckle. Arthur forced a hollow laugh. "We'll get it sorted out."

"I hope so," Arthur said, praying Merlin found a cure.

One of his guard's tapped him on the shoulder then, handing him another note. "What the hell is this, another one?" The guard looked a bit confused at the outburst, but Arthur waved him away. He unfolded the parchment, which was slightly damp, and read:

_Meet me outside the kitchens. Come alone, sweet prince._

This scrawl was untidy, written in a hurry. It was not the same as the previous note - but unlike that one, Arthur knew who this was from. Without realizing it, he let a smile find its way to his face.

"Sire?" the guard said.

"It's from Sir Leon. He thinks he may have found something. Continue to watch the prisoners," Arthur said, mustering up his most commanding tone and heading back up the stairs before any of them decided to follow. The halls were still fairly busy, mostly with servants tending to their masters' orders. He quickened his pace, taking the long way to the kitchens to avoid being seen by anyone who might think to tell his father. He felt so guilty about disobeying Uther and that guilt had become a permanent fixture in his life, his constant companion.

As he reached the kitchen, on the cooks said, "Sire, they already collected all the waiters - please, we're already understaffed can't you just -"

"I'm not here for anyone else, ma'am, I assure you. Has there been a mad-looking woman down here? Scars on her face?" Arthur asked. He recognized the woman as one of the castle's top cooks, but he couldn't quite place her name. She was a heavyset older woman who must have been attractive in her youth, but age had taken its toll. She was sweating from every orifice and clearly stressed. The cook took a moment to think, which appeared to be a terrible effort.

"Do you mean Cassie, milord?"

"Um," he started.

"Queen Sofia's serving maid hasn't been in here since the Mendanbars first arrived, your highness," Arthur frowned at this. It made sense that Carrow might acquire an alias, but the fact that she was here at all made him uneasy, let alone that she had somehow become serving maid to a bloody Queen. What had that witch been up to? Arthur's face lit up with confusion, which he assumed the cook before him sensed.

"Your highness, are you alright? You haven't caught that nasty plague have you?" she said, trying to offer him a smile.

"No, no ah…"

"Mildred!" she offered, beaming at him.

"Mildred, no I haven't gotten the plague. What was Cassie doing down here?"

"Chatting mostly. She's quite a gossip, you know, and confident for a woman with her disability," she said. Yes, he did know.

"And what did you tell her? Anything of importance?"

"I don't think so. She asked an awful lot about the Lady Morgana and ah," Mildred started, her cheeks reddening.

"And?"

"She was asking about you, as well. Your ah, love life and such, Sire. It seemed like she fancied you or something," she said, evidently trying not to start giggling. Arthur's jaw clenched irritably as he realized Mildred was wasting his time - and so was Carrow for that matter. "Which isn't really all that unusual, half the girls down here think you're handsome and -"

"That's alright, Mildred. Why don't you go back to your work, now," he said, putting a hand up to stop her from going further. Arthur glanced around the kitchen once more realizing that Carrow had either stood him up or something happened to her. Part of him hoped that this was just one of her games, while the other part was hoping she'd gotten hit in the head. The latter part was very small though. Really.

As he headed back down into the corridor, he swung a left and went towards the main hall where his father was probably still holding some semblance of the summit without he or the Mendanbars present. He took the narrow staircase up to the first floor and as he came out, he felt a knife at his back and a hand cover his mouth. He tensed up and his other hand went to his sword. As he did so, the knife pressed harder into his back. His opponent pulled him back into an empty room, one usually put aside for guests. Candlelight was glowing softly from somewhere behind him.

"I do fancy you a bit, you know," his captor whispered into his ear. The tension went out of him almost instantly, but it was quickly replaced with annoyance.

"For Godsake, Carrow!" Arthur said a bit breathlessly as he turned around to face her. She was dripping wet, as though she'd just gotten out of a bath, and she smelled a bit of naphtha oil, but it was the same old Carrow. The only thing she was missing was that dratted blunt sword she liked to drag around so much. The witch gave him a small smile and the candlelight danced across her disconcerting face with an eerie vigor, almost as though she'd positioned herself on purpose. Knowing her, she probably had.

"I could have killed you! Psychotic little - Wait, whose room is this?" Arthur said, noting that it was not as empty as he thought. Trunks were sitting unopened at the foot of the bed, which had been turned down for the evening by a servant.

"Always business with you men, Merlin was the same way when I greeted him!" she said, whizzing around and feigning an irritable sigh. She went to one of the taller cupboards in the room where another trunk had been stacked high on the mantle. "Help me with this, love." She began yanking at its heavy iron handle, forcing the cupboard to rock loudly. Arthur rushed to help her before she knocked the damn thing over entirely. Together they pulled the trunk down.

"What are you up to?" he said, as he tried yanking the trunk open. "It's lock -" Carrow's eyes flashed gold as she muttered a single strange syllable under her breath. The trunk flew open and its hinges squeaked uneasily. It held nothing of interest to Arthur's eyes - clothes. Carrow's face fell.

"I was sure it would be here," she muttered.

Arthur scowled at her. "What? What would be here? Whose room is this? Why are you here? Why are you _sopping_?" She sat back with a remote look on her face, the one she got when she was troubled or thinking very hard about something. Arthur felt an all too familiar urge to slap her. "Carrow!"

"I got a note," she said, handing him a damp bit of parchment from the folds of her skirt. Arthur it plucked it out of her fingers and flattened it on the hood of the trunk. The ink was running, but it mirrored the one that Leon had given him.

"This is the Duke of Callai's room. So you didn't send this to me earlier?" Arthur said. He knew she hadn't, the handwriting was different, but he hoped he had been wrong.

"Yes. And no, though I had thought about forwarding it to you. Until I saw Leon taking it from the same stable hand that gave me mine. I already asked the boy, of course. He said it was from a man with a hood," she said.

"Why would he give _you_ a copy of it?" She shrugged. "Are you going to tell me why you're here? And why were you asking the cook about Morgana?"

"I'm Queen Medanbar's maidservant, thanks to your gushing recommendation," Carrow said, smirking at him.

"What?"

"Oh yes. You said I was punctual, tidy, intelligent, loyal and _incredibly_ charming."

"You forged this, of course."

"Of course! I didn't want to impose on you, so I took the liberty of writing it up myself," she said. Carrow was always so good at evasion. She would answer the single question that wasn't at all important and then elaborate on it in as silly a way possible in hopes that her interrogator would forget the legitimate question entirely. Arthur knew her games and he wasn't going to play.

"Answer my questions, Carrow," he said firmly. She looked at him for a second, her cheeky smirk diminishing somewhat.

"It would be safer if you simply let me go about my business, sweet prince. I'll protect you," she said, stroking his cheek, Arthur grabbed it tightly and squeezed. She didn't wince.

"Car_row_," he said.

"Oh I've missed that one! Ar_thur_ - ow! Fine. But it is an annoying sentiment, isn't it? To be reassured that ignorance is bliss? How do you think that busty little serving maid of yours feels?" Arthur's eyes narrowed.

"How do you know about Gwen? Speak, witch!" he said, finally breaking. It was as though she were angry with him, he could hear it in her tone. About what he hadn't the faintest. And he didn't care at the moment. It was clear to him that Carrow had been watching Camelot for days now, perhaps even weeks. Where was Gwaine? He was supposed to be keeping an eye on her.

"There's that fiery Pendragon temper!" she said, letting out a pained laugh as he bent her finger.

"A month and a half ago I happened upon your ward in a pub outside of Kellan's landing," Carrow said. Arthur let her go, anger dissipating into confusion.

"Morgana?"

"Yes, the lovely woman with the raven black hair, her face - in a mirror. Her sister, Morgause I believe, was wearing a rather shabby glamour. I did not have my ah, wits, about me that night -"

"You were drunk?"

"Smashed, actually," she said unsmiling. "But the glamour caught my eye just the same. Naturally I followed her. She was contacting the ward through a mirror, tricky spell - takes a tricky sorcerous - they were speaking about dragon's eggs, that Morgause had already acquired the first, had a lead on the second. Morgana was in charge of the third. I didn't know who Morgana was, I didn't care. Had I not heard your voice in the background, I certainly wouldn't be here right now. It went dark before any actual information was exchanged."

"You heard me in the background?"

"Yes, I wasn't sure it was you at first, I was so, ah, inebriated at the time. But I kept thinking - what if it was? You and Merlin would be in danger," she said. Arthur suddenly grinned at her.

"You_ do_ care," he teased.

"Mostly about Merlin," she said. "In any case, soon after that little correspondence took place - Kellan's Landing underwent a drastic decline in its population of children. I decided to take the threat seriously -"

There was movement outside the room, and Carrow froze. Duke Laurence entered and looked at them both, outrage already spilling over on his purple face. Arthur stood up.

"I'm sorry to have had to invade your privacy, sir, but swift measures had to be taken," Arthur began, but Carrow cut in.

"Aye, sir. I just come from the physician's chambers, sir. There were fungus in the man's clothes! The physician said it were released when the King started to sweat - as he does when he starts eating too quickly, sir. I came to find the Prince straightaway so he could go through all the nobles' garments, sir," she said, her face falling. She made sure never to meet the man's eyes, as a servant wouldn't. The scars, though usually used to frighten people, now only made her look pathetic.

"Uh, ah, yes. This search is only for your safety, sir, I hope you understand," Arthur said, assuming that what Carrow had said was true. He hoped it was, he could use it to clear Gaius's name. The physician would never have been able to get to Graeme's clothes. Uther would have no choice but to release him.

Laurence looked as though he may argue for a moment, but instead let out the breath he had been holding. "Fine. Fine. Are you very well done now, though?" the man said. Arthur gritted his teeth. Had the bastard forgotten who he was speaking to?

"Yes, I believe we are. Let's go, miss," he said, walking around the Duke and out the door. Carrow followed with her shoulders hunched and her head down, playing the good little servant. It was a bit disorienting. As soon as they were clear of the room, he said, "Subservient is very becoming on you, Carrow - or should I say Cassie?"

"You can fawn over me later, sweet prince. For now go get your physician out of the dungeon. I'll wager Merlin is already there. We'll finish our chat tomorrow. I'd rather Merlin and Leon be there as well so I don't have to repeat myself," she said, smiling at someone behind him. Arthur turned around to find Leon. Carrow gave the man a hug and then winked at both of them before running off.

"I do believe I've missed something important," Leon said. "Again."

##

_What have we learned? Gaius needs to take out a bit of malpractice insurance, that's what. And for those of you who didn't read Heads Will Roll, that was Carrow. Anyway, tell me what you thought! _


	3. Chapter 3: Nightshade

Previously on _Thrones and Teeth:_ Merlin managed to prevent the assassination of the Strathclyde King, Graeme, with a bit of help from an old friend. Carrow, under the guise of Queen Mendanbar's maidservant, has also informed Arthur that Morgana and Morgause are plotting with fire, seeking lost dragon eggs.

##

Chapter 3: _Nightshade_

##

"What do you mean you're not going to release Gaius? I can't make his innocence any more clear!" Arthur said. The physician had been stuck in his cell overnight as Uther refused to see him. Morgana tried not to smirk, but it was all just so funny to her. Biting the inside of her cheek, she forced her gaze straight ahead. Solemnity, she reminded herself, that was the goal here.

Standing in the throne room with a handful of Camelot's finest, Arthur had begun his argument in very high spirits. The prince had been practical, confident, and _proud_. It was a shame that Morgana had spent most of the night convincing the king that Gaius was innocent, but needed to be made an example of. The physician was so often in Uther's line of sight, that it was easy to get rid of him. Morgana had grown tired of Merlin's mentor, the voice of reason.

Part of her knew that it was wrong, but another part, a much larger part, knew that Gaius had been there to hide her powers from her. Choking her with that silly remedy to get rid of her visions. He had used magic in the days before Uther's Purge, he could have _helped_ her. Instead, he had chosen to allow her to continue being frightened. He would live and die with that choice, she would make sure of it.

"I'm not convinced of his innocence, but whether he is innocent of _this_ crime is irrelevant. Until the real culprit is found and I am certain that the castle is safe, he will stay in the dungeon. I need to at least create the illusion of safety for the sake of the summit and Camelot," Uther said.

Regaining power over her cheek muscles, Morgana said, "But, Sire, this is madness. Gaius is our friend. Merlin said himself that the physician had told him the cure before he was carted away. Had it not been for Gaius, King Graeme would be dead!" Uther frowned at her. Her quips had begun to sound rehearsed even to her ears.

"Morgana, you said yourself last night that it was unlikely Giaus would even have had time to look at Graeme and yet he knew instantly. Perhaps only to cover himself. Discovering the method used to poison Graeme does not absolve Gaius of guilt - after all, he delivered the salve personally. He could have sprinkled the fungus into the man's trunk then and no one would be the wiser," Uther said. Morgana noted that Arthur was no longer looking at his father, but at _her_. His eyes were narrowed and accusing. To her they only made him look more like his father and the man who would unwittingly steal the crown from its rightful heir if she didn't do something about it.

The truth was Morgana was just as curious about who had doused King Graeme with that fungus. She thought that Merlin must attribute the entire mess to _her_ but she was far too busy attending to other things to be bothered with Strathclyde's king. She wished she had been the one to do it, though, as it had created the perfect opportunity for her to slip away last night. Still, she didn't like not knowing what was going on in her own castle.

"Father, I have a witness who was present when Gaius delivered the salve, the trunks hadn't been brought up then," Arthur said. Morgana could tell it was the prince's final paltry attempt at getting Gaius released. She could hear the desperation in his voice. Morgana straightened her back, curious about this supposed witness. Queen Sofia had already admitted that she hadn't been in the room at the time Gaius had delivered the salve. Graeme was still asleep, so he could not attest one way or another.

Uther, too, appeared intrigued. "Who, pray tell, are you speaking of?" the king said, sighing resignedly.

"The Queen's serving maid, Sire," Arthur said, waving at the guards to allow the woman in. Morgana's eyes followed the prince's hand and landed on a petite woman who stumbled in, appearing frightened, nervous, and above all, _exhausted_. Holding her head up slightly, Morgana saw that grisly scars marred her cheek, while watery green eyes and unkempt hair framed her heart shaped face. At one point she may have been pretty, but here and now the girl resembled the lowest of servants - certainly not one fit for a Queen. A filthy grey gown completed the unflattering ensemble and Morgana resisted the urge to giggle. This was all he had to save Gaius?

"What's your name, girl?" Uther asked, sounding less impressed than Morgana.

"Cassie, your highness," the woman said, bottom lip quivering ever so slightly as she addressed him. Fingering a loose thread on her sleeve, she glanced at Arthur nervously. For a second Morgana thought she saw the prince's eyes roll. He must know what a lost cause this was. Still, the prince was unnaturally dependent on Merlin, he had to show he was putting forth effort to maintain that silly little bond.

"You say you were there when the physician brought Gaius his salve?" Uther said.

"Yes, your highness," she answered.

"What color was it?" Uther prompted.

"Um, orange, Sire." Uther narrowed his gaze at her, leaning forward slightly in his chair.

"And you said that your master's trunks were not in the room when Gaius delivered the salve?"

"King Graeme en't my master, Queen Sofia is," the woman said, catching herself and biting her bottom lip. She glanced at Arthur again, whose jaw was clenched.

"Answer the question, Cassie," Uther said impatiently.

"Ah no, the king's things were not in the room at the time, your highness," she responded quickly.

"And you're positive of this?"

"Very, your highness, because my lady's trunks and the kings trunks came in at the same time - I was charged with unpacking," she said, nodding vigorously. The effect made her look a bit like a kicked puppy. Morgana almost felt sorry for her. Uther rose from his throne then and stood in front of her. Cassie flinched and lowered her gaze.

"If I find you have been lying to me, you will be hanged. Do you understand?" Uther said. Cassie raised her head then and met his gaze. For a brief second Morgana thought she saw something like irritation flash across the woman's perverted features before fear overtook them, but she only nodded.

"I'm certain, your highness," she said, before bowing her head once again. Uther looked at her a moment longer before returning to his seat.

"Thank you, Cassie, you may go," Uther said. The guards escorted the serving maid back outside and Morgana resumed her sober facade. She hadn't realized that she'd been smiling. Thankfully, all eyes had been on Arthur's abject witness. As soon as the maid was gone, Uther turned to Arthur.

"Do you expect me to believe a servant's testimony? No, I don't want to hear it, Arthur. If you want to help the physician, find me evidence of his innocence - look for the one responsible, then I will happily admit my wrongfulness and release him," Uther said.

"But, father, this is ridiculous! I - "

"Leave me, I must get ready for this afternoon's council," Uther said. Arthur shut his mouth, frustration burning his cheeks. Morgana thought the prince might really lose it this time. She prayed he would. Every time Arthur reprimanded his father's stupidity, Uther and Morgana grew a little closer. It strengthened their already _profound_ bond. Arthur made Morgana's life so much easier. Unfortunately the prince left before he could do any more damage.

Uther suddenly appeared exhausted once his son had left the throne room. The evening's disaster was now written across his weathered face. He had aged in the past year. Morgana often worried the king would drive himself into the ground before she got a chance to plunge the knife into his back.

"Do you think I'm making a mistake?" Uther asked, sounding disheartened.

Morgana feigned pause, before putting a comforting hand on Uther's arm."I think you've had an impossible choice laid in front of you. But I'm sure Arthur will be able to find evidence to prove Gaius's innocence. The physician will be fine in the dungeons for a couple days."

"Yes. Make sure he's as comfortable as possible," Uther said. Morgana nodded.

"If you didn't do this, Sire, they'd think you a fool or even that Camelot was behind it," she continued.

"Arthur has to learn that sometimes the best decisions are not always the kindest," Uther said resolutely. Turning his head slightly to face her, a fatigued smile found his eyes. "I am grateful to have your advice these days, Morgana. Arthur has seemed distant of late, like he's pushing me away." Morgana bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. She managed to keep her face straight and nodded.

"I think Arthur is as tense as you are, Sire. He worries for Camelot and for you. All this stress isn't doing you any favors," she said, offering him a smile which he returned wearily.

A quiet passed between them and then Uther said, "I'm sorry for keeping you, Morgana, I know you have other things to attend to." She knew this was his polite way of asking her to leave, so she only nodded again before sweeping out of the room.

The _hearing_, delightfully humorous though it had been, had sucked up most of her morning. She hadn't the chance to contact Morgause the previous evening, what with all the commotion. Morgana had worried that some of the fungus might have found its way into her bed. She had Gwen go through every stitch of clothing just to be sure. She'd seen the ugly scars that those few serving waiters had walked away with, she wanted no part in them.

Arriving at her chambers, she saw Gwen adding a few fresh flowers to the vase beside her bed. "Are those daisies, Gwen?"

"Yes, my lady. Pretty aren't they?"

"A bit common though. What happened to those lovely purple ones you brought me the other day? I'd love more of them," Morgana said. Gwen's face fell slightly, though Morgana ignored that.

"I'll see if I can relocate the woman who sold them in the square," she replied, heading for the door.

"Please do. Also see to it that I'm not interrupted for the next hour or so, I've got a dreadful headache." Gwen bowed slightly and left without another word. Morgana's coldness was finally beginning to rub off on the girl. She was surprised it had taken this long. She had maintained an aloof civility with Gwen out of their past friendship, but lately Morgana had been consumed with nothing but their plot. Every time she was forced into inconsequential chit chat, she began to cultivate the worst _itch_, as though time were running out and it was Gwen's fault. Or whomever she happened to be speaking with idly.

Listening at the door to make sure there were no more footsteps, she whispered a simple spell to keep it shut. She had seen how the people of the castle took to bursting in unannounced. Taking a seat at her vanity, she pulled out a small silver mirror with roses carved ornately into the handle. Setting it before her, her eyes glowed slightly as she spoke the phrase that would bring the mirror to life. The glass grew supple as a pool of water. Instead of her reflection, she saw a torch burning tirelessly on a stone wall. The image was so clear Morgana thought she might be able to pluck it from the wall herself. "Sister," she whispered into the mirror.

There was a fluttering on the other side, a shuffling of papers, and then Morgause's face appeared in the mirror.

"Morgana, you look tired. Why didn't you contact me last night?" she said, worry in her voice. Morgana's heart warmed at her sister's concern and she explained to her all that had transgressed in the castle.

"Someone else is conspiring against Camelot?"

"Or Strathclyde at the very least," Morgana said, nodding.

"Well this makes things tricky. We must find who they are and what they want before anything else," Morgause said, turning away from the mirror and fishing around on what Morgana knew to be a very cluttered table.

"Unfortunately I've been so focused on The Siphon that I wasn't even aware that the Mendanbars had enemies within the castle. Vaudran has several spies lurking about, but none have managed to find a place within the walls or I would know about it," Morgana said.

"I'll scry for the assassin. Tonight."

"I thought you misplaced your lueg, though?" Morgana asked, frowning. Scrying was a branch of magic Morgana had been gifted with naturally, but she had not yet learned to steer her visions. Scrying was more difficult because one had to initiate tales of the future. Usually it was done on the surface of water or a flat stone known as a lueg, which Morgause preferred. Fire, too, was strong though very unreliable. Morgana preferred fire whenever she had tried it.

"I've got a new one," she said, brushing away the foolish comment impatiently. "Contact me again later tonight, after everyone has gone to sleep. Keep working on The Siphon. Slowly, remember, we don't want it to be noticeable - especially not during the summit. Uther must be himself until his guests are gone. And for godsake, Morgana, keep your eyes open. You must certainly have missed something."

With that, Morgause was gone and Morgana was left in a terribly foul mood.

##

They were back in Gaius's chambers now, and Merlin was trying to wrestle his heart into a more manageable animal. It seemed that Arthur was not able to win Gaius back his freedom, even with Carrow's testimony. Merlin didn't think that Arthur would have allowed her in if he'd thought she'd been lying about it. Lying was a last resort where Uther was concerned.

Arthur was currently pacing, tending to his temper, and trying to come up with his next plan of attack. The cogs in Merlin's head were also turning. They were both well aware of the distinct possibility that Morgana might have something to do with it, though Leon had not found anything in her bedroom and Gwen had complained of having to overturn all of the ward's linens and clothes to be sure there was no sign of a fungus. She sounded as surprised as the rest of them at the attempt on Graeme's life.

The door creaked open once more, causing Merlin to jump and knock over a bottle of God knew what. Once he saw that it was Carrow, he began scooping the thick white liquid up and throwing into a waste bin.

"How's Graeme doing?" Merlin asked.

"What? Oh, oh fine. You did a very good job with the scars," Carrow said. The witch had fled back to her master's chambers as soon as they'd led her out of the throne room. Arthur was looking at her, contempt in his eyes. The prince had confided that he thought Carrow's attestation of events was a bit heavy handed.

"Do you know if it was the Duke of Callai who was behind it or was it Morgana?" Arthur asked impatiently. Merlin's eyes flicked from his task to the witch's face briefly. She appeared paler than usual, and was without that usual glint in her eye. She appeared not to have slept at all.

"Truly I have no idea who physically doused the King's clothes in that fungus," Carrow replied, taking a seat beside Merlin and tucking a wavy strand of hair back into place. Her hair was in a tight bun at the moment, which somehow made her appear much smaller than usual. He was used to it flying about madly, the curls seeming to have a mind of their own.

"Where were you last night?" Arthur asked. "After you left me, where were you off to?"

She narrowed her eyes at the question, as though she might snap. Merlin could tell she was not in a particularly good mood, though he didn't know if it was due to Uther being uncooperative or the situation in general. "Where's Leon?"

"I sent for him, you're not going to make us wait for him before you start talking are you?"

"If your positions were switched, wouldn't you like us to wait?" Merlin was trying very hard now to focus on mopping up the white liquid now, to keep from laughing.

"I'm the prince, I shouldn't have to wait on -"

"Putting on the crown a bit early today aren't you?" Merlin couldn't stop himself from saying. Arthur opened his mouth to reprimand him, but then the unthinkable happened.

Arthur grinned. It was a tired grin, but sincere all the same. Merlin couldn't quite bring himself to return it, but Carrow managed a half smile. Whatever she'd been doing last night, Merlin very much doubted it had anything to do with sleep. She appeared to have been up all night long.

A refined knock on the door followed the banter, Carrow edged the door open to reveal Leon, who looked unsure that he should be there at all.

"Did you bring it?" Carrow asked.

"Bring what? Are you having secret rendezvous with everyone in the castle now?" Arthur asked shortly, the grin now completely gone. Leon nodded at her, looking apologetically at Arthur. Carrow, Merlin knew, trusted Leon probably even more than she trusted Arthur. Granted, who didn't trust Leon? He was about the most reliable soul on the planet.

The knight took out a small package from a bag. A horribly familiar scent caught Merlin's nose as he did so. Leon unwrapped what appeared to be dried flowers and laid them on the work bench in front of Carrow. The flowers were a deep purple - now almost black, withered and frail. Merlin's eyes narrowed as he recognized them.

"Is that nightshade?" he asked, his eyes widening. "You had Gwen bring those to Morgana's room the other day, didn't you?"

"Looked a bit prettier then, didn't they? Couldn't do anything for the smell, I'm afraid," Carrow said. Merlin had only seen nightshade in pictures, he had never experienced the pungent smell.

"I can't believe you got away with it," Merlin said.

"What the hell are you two on about, what's nightshade?" Arthur snapped.

"It's a pretty flower, nothing to worry your head about, sweet prince," she said, plucking a single dried blossom from the sprig. Merlin narrowed his gaze at her warningly. He could already tell this would be a difficult morning. Both of them seemed to be in hostile moods.

"Nightshade is a weed, Sire. Carrow seems to have spelled it to collect Morgana's dreams as a way of spying on her," Leon surprised Merlin by saying.

"So you already had the meeting with Leon, then?" Arthur said.

"The man had to know what he was after, it's rather difficult to collect without spoiling it," Carrow said shrugging indifferently. "Merlin, I gather you know how this bit works then?" Merlin nodded hesitantly. Nightshade was a nasty business. If spelled right, it could siphon dreams from a person, catching the images in the petals. It could be used to relieve a person of their nightmares or in a case like Morgana, deprive them of their visions. Merlin assumed that these must be what Carrow was after. Merlin was just grateful that Morgana wasn't far enough along in her schooling to have been introduced to the stuff. Or at least that the glamour that Carrow put over the flowers had been subtle enough to escape notice.

"How did you even come by nightshade, it doesn't grow but -" Merlin started, but Carrow shushed him.

"You wouldn't like the answer, dear. I need you to work on gathering these images. I was going to do it myself, but, quite frankly I'm exhausted. I need some sleep or I'll be no use to you all," she said.

"Where were you last night?" Arthur asked.

"If you must know, I was stalking the Duke Laurence. I know he's hiding something, but he's quite the slippery little bastard. He _does_ have a taste for prostitutes and fine wine though. Ran up quite the bill at The Slaughtered Lamb last night," Carrow said, sighing as she wrapped the rest of the nightshade back up, handing the singular blossom to Merlin. Merlin was careful not to crack the petals, which were extremely brittle. She tucked the rest of the nightshade carefully into her bosom, still managing to make a bit of a show of it in spite of her obvious exhaustion. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"So you didn't find out anything new? Nothing else you care to reveal to us?" Arthur pressed.

"Not at the moment, no," said the witch who sincerely delighted in being withholding, though Merlin felt that at this moment she was being uncannily sincere. There was something off about her, perhaps more downtrodden.

"Fantastic. Merlin - I want you to stalk _her_ until she reveals something useful. I've got to pacify more of the nobles and assure Gaius that we're working on it," Arthur said, seemingly fed up with Carrow - a record by any account. Arthur turned to Leon. "Head down to the training grounds. It's on you today."

Leon nodded and turned to leave as Carrow thanked him. Arthur followed, leaving Merlin alone with Carrow who gave him a tired smile.

"Are you alright?" Merlin asked.

"Me? Oh yes, quite," she said, collecting a pot and filling it with a bit of water. Merlin raised an eyebrow at her. She rolled her eyes. "Well, not very alright. Just need a bit of rest."

"Why did you take it upon yourself to come here, orchestrate this whole ridiculous… You seem, well, you seem a bit mad. Even by your standards," Merlin insisted. When they had parted ways all those months ago, Carrow seemed, well not blissful, but in the very least she seemed contented. The last healthy image he had of her was she and Gwaine waving them off home, he'd imagined the two had then ventured into a pub and got smashed together, happily ever after. That's what Merlin wanted to believe - that his friends were happy. It seemed that hadn't been the case.

"Well that's not a very nice thing to say," she said, feigning hurt. She tucked a frizzy strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm fine, Merlin."

"Were you serious about the way you happened by Morgana's plot or were you lying?"

She smiled. "May have fudged. Just a tiny bit." She put the pot on the burner to allow the water to come to a boil. Merlin knew the nightshade needed to be steamed very delicately over the right length of time - it was a complicated process that took concentration. He had never done it before, though he didn't think it would be a problem. The images ought to be released in the steam given off by the nightshade - the difficult part was interpreting them.

"Well?"

"I met a very interesting man. He introduced me to his mother, a seeress, who helped me learn how to scry. I'm rubbish at it, if you were curious," she said.

"Why did you lie to Arthur then?"

"I don't know, Merlin, it seemed easier at the time."

"Well, what did you see then?"

"At first nothing, but the next few times I tried it I kept coming across Morgana. I was trying to scry for Camelot, it would direct me to her. I didn't know who she was, or what her significance was until I saw her speaking with Arthur - then it clicked. Yleina and I then joined our powers to make it more… accurate. We saw Morgana chattering with Morgause about the eggs, and eventually it came back round to Yleina's son. Marek seemed to be working with Morgana - it all became very clouded after that and one thing led to another… It's been a long two months," Carrow said, waving Merlins' questions off with a flick of her hand.

"You didn't want Arthur to know there were other magic users involved - you still don't trust him? Hang on, did you say Marek?"

"You know him?"

"I don't know, I saw _a _Marek sell something to Morgana. I followed her to a pub," Merlin said.

Carrow frowned. "Interesting."

"Did you warn Marek of Morgana? He seemed to have already built up a rapport with Morgause by the sound of it," Merlin said.

"Marek and his mother aren't close. The only reason he brought me to her was because I was… in need of medical assistance," Carrow said. Merlin's frown deepened. Everything was always so one sided with her, she could never just give the full story.

"Marek did not strike me as a man who would lend his assistance to anyone readily," Merlin said.

"Yes, well, I was particularly charming that evening," she said firmly, clearly not wanting to divulge any more. "This is nearly read, have you done it before?"

"No, but I know the basics," Merlin said. Carrow fellow into a chair as Merlin got up to hover over the slowly simmering pot. He picked up the nightshade which she had laid neatly beside the pot, looking from it to Carrow curiously.

"Do you have any expectations for this?"

She shook her head slowly. "No. Do you?"

Merlin narrowed his eyes at the nightshade, unsure how to answer. Part of him hoped that there might be some hidden meaning in these visions - something more than just a damaged psyche to explain her descent into darkness. He couldn't forget the Morgana who would risk everything for a serving maid, who would lay down her life to save his mother's village. He licked his lips and held the nightshade loosely over the pot.

"Let it steam a few minutes before you begin. Remember, it mustn't be rushed. Delicate business - nightshade, if you hurry it along, the images will become jagged and fractured. We'd like something whole," Carrow said softly.

"Have you done this before?" Merlin thought to ask.

"A version of it. Back in Loxley when I thought the village elders were keeping something from me. Such interesting dreams old men have!" she said, a smirk crossing her face as she raised a suggestive brow at him. "Unfortunately, my efforts were in vain."

Merlin didn't care to ask her to elaborate on that. He turned his attention back to the nightshade. "Not even sure this will work, Morgana hasn't been complaining of visions in a fairly long time. Or nightmares for that matter."

"We'll see, then," was all Carrow said, letting out a yawn.

As the steam began to rise, he was choked with an acrid smell. He let out a cough as his eyes began to water. He blinked furiously to dry them. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw Carrow grinning. Getting a hold of himself, he focused and began the short spell.

As soon as the last syllable escaped him, images began to form in the mist before him. It was hard to gauge at first, but he was fairly certain it was a field. A red field framed by angry thunderclouds. He blinked and the image was gone, replaced by a familiar face. He bit the inside of his cheek - it was his face. Tear stricken and pained as he hovered over someone. He recognized this not as some vision of the future - it was a memory. This was him as he decided to poison Morgana.

The visions he had been ready for, but he hadn't bargained for the emotions that came with them. He had the urge to throw up as his stomach lodged itself in his throat. What was this? Fear and - sudden anxiety of being alone - this… was it betrayal? This was betrayal. This was the moment that Morgana had come to hate him with all of her being. Her feelings of hatred and his guilt were twisting around in his gut like two angry snakes. The vision shifted again.

Morgause appeared, her face bubbling with some sort of boils - burns. Fear, anxiety - the vision shifted again. This time it was of Gwen, she was on the throne, a smile on her face as she looked to her king - Arthur. Merlin's happiness twined with Morgana's hate - it was her place, that throne. Not _Gwen's_. Images shifted again and again, each pursuant of Morgana's fears and woes, until finally Merlin's frayed nerves got a break.

It was Morgana on the throne now, wearing Gwen's crown. Knights were bowing to her, none of them familiar - all of them wore black capes with gold dragons. One of them was presenting Morgana with what Merlin instinctively knew to be a dragon's egg. The vision shifted slightly and he saw himself standing behind Morgana looking pleased to be there. He couldn't begin to decipher its meaning when he was suddenly face to face with Morgause once more, a memory - the day that Morgause had given Morgana her bracelet. The one she never took off.

The steam dissolved then and Merlin was released. Carrow was beside him, directing him to a chair. He realized his face was wet - he'd been crying. She took a warm wash cloth and wiped his face, much like his mother used to do when he was frightened. He took the cloth from her and she sat in front of him with a matter-of-fact look on her face.

"It wasn't fun, was it?"

"Why didn't you warn me - about, about all the -"

"Feelings?"

Merlin nodded.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize it would be so strong. It wasn't that bad when I did it. What did you see? Anything helpful?"

"I don't know. She's extremely angry," he said, unable to think of a word powerful enough to describe Morgana's emotions. She was on the edge of sanity. The only thing that kept her from crossing that line was the idea that she could set it right - or at least her version of right. He was embarrassed to know what he knew about her now, just how upset she was with him in particular. He hadn't realized how much she trusted him, cared about him.

Carrow only nodded. It was clear to Merlin that she was not entirely privy to Morgana's relationship with both Arthur and himself. She must know that she was precious to the kingdom, but she had only seen the bad thus far.

"She saw Gwen and Arthur on the throne. A bloody battlefield kept fleeting across the mist… She saw herself on the throne. Her sister dying. My betrayal…"

"Musical chairs in the throne room, unfortunate deaths, anything that stood out of value?" Carrow said.

"The last vision was of the bracelet she always wears. Morgause gave it to her, which was something I wasn't aware of," Merlin said. "There was a distinct sense of relief that went with that one, like the bracelet helped her. I never noticed that it was spelled though."

"It could be subtle - if you weren't looking, it might not be apparent. I'll look into it," Carrow said thoughtfully. "Anything else?"

Merlin wiped his face once more with the washcloth and shook his head, feeling like he needed to go to bed for at least a week. "I'll keep thinking on it, maybe something slipped past me. Though I feel like if this is what's been going on in her head that it must be impossible for her to sleep properly."

Carrow smiled at him wearily. "Look alive, darling, Arthur still needs his armor polished this afternoon." She patted him briefly on the shoulder, squeezing it lightly as she did so before bouncing to the door. "We'll get your physician out of the stocks in no time, promise," she called.

As she left Merlin realized he'd completely forgotten to ask after Gwaine. He thought maybe they'd had a row and she'd turned him into a toad - or maybe one of those damn Gorgons had petrified him after all. His head was going to explode from stress - one thing at a time!

##

_I apologize for the ridiculous wait. Turns out all I needed was the new season of Merlin to start up to get my muse flowing again - terrible of me, I know. In any case, I hope this chapter doesn't bore anyone to tears or anything. I don't know that it was worth the wait, but I promise to get the ball rolling next chapter! _


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